


Click

by the_dangerous_ginger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Dark Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4643421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dangerous_ginger/pseuds/the_dangerous_ginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by this awesome post:<br/>http://bamf-castiel.tumblr.com/post/127303948152/bamf-castiel-falling-castiel-not-an-angel</p>
<p>This is a parting gift and a please don't disown me plea rolled into one.<br/>Enjoy!</p>
<p>~K</p>
    </blockquote>





	Click

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this awesome post:  
> http://bamf-castiel.tumblr.com/post/127303948152/bamf-castiel-falling-castiel-not-an-angel
> 
> This is a parting gift and a please don't disown me plea rolled into one.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~K

_Click. Click._

The flame danced for a moment and sputtered out, and the owner of the lighter let out a deep, rumbling sigh.

_Click. Click._

Sparks flew but no flame caught.

Long tanned fingers flipped the small lighter over and shook it vigorously, in hopes of getting something, anything, to catch.

_Click. Click._

Bingo.

The flame wavered slightly, but held up long enough for a cigarette to be lit before winking out one last time. Now useless, the lighter was tossed to the side, clattering quietly across the filthy floor.

Embers from the end of the cigarette illuminate cracked and bloody lips, high sweeping cheekbones littered with bruises of every color, and otherworldly azure eyes framed with thick, dark eyelashes.

A soft breeze winded its way into the room through the shattered window, and the faintest sound of ruffling feathers could be heard. Standing in the midst of the utterly filthy room, the floor littered with trash, grime, blood, and bodies that once housed demons, stood a blood covered former angel of the Lord.

Castiel.

In a time that was becoming increasingly more infuriating to remember, he’d been the obedient little soldier of God, leader of the strongest garrison of Heaven. He’d followed every order without question, blindly following an absent Father without hesitation.

He’d been weak then.

After falling on his own accord and walking amongst humans, he’d made a name for himself. 

Gone was daddy’s toy soldier. Gone was the “holy tax accountant”. Gone was the angel who had been so weak and brainwashed that if told to jump, he’d of asked “How high?” He’d even burned the god awful trench coat and lost his tie, choosing to don jeans and a decent waistcoat instead.

Now, he was known for many things, and docility was not one of them.

Castiel, former angel of the Lord, was now a violent, independent thinking creature.

His wings, now useless and exposed from his fall, and skin were covered in thick spirals of red and black ink. Lines, loops, swirls, and shapes formed the symbols of protection that colored his arms and wings.

Castiel had barely flinched over the needles pricking his vessels skin, but the wings had been a much different story. He shuddered at the memory of those long and grueling sessions, painstakingly placing each symbol on the tender, downy feathers.

Pushing the uncomfortable memories away, he surveyed the damage at his feet.

Three bodies, two male and one female, lay cold and still on the floor, blood seeping out of the holes left from his angel blade. He regarded them with little interest, now that their threatening presence had been eliminated.

He cast a glance over his own body, taking note of the bloody and bruised knuckles, the crimson handprints on his right arm and waist coat, and the precarious gash on his right shoulder.

Nonetheless, with the nonchalant flick of fingers and the use of a smidge of his ever dwindling grace, he cleaned himself up and finished his cigarette, snuffing out the dying embers with the toe of his shoe.

He tuned in for a few moments to the outside world, listening with the acute hearing he still possessed for any hint of another hunt, another warm body to pummel his way through in the name of his twisted version of righteousness.

The air shifted, ever so slightly, and he caught what he’d been waiting for.

With a smile much too sadistic for the being he used to be, he was off.

When he arrived at his destination, he summoned up another lighter and tapped out another cigarette.

_Click._


End file.
